"Ray, people will come Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. Of course, we won't mind if you look around, you'll say. It's only $20 per person. They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come." - James Earl Jones, "Field of Dreams"
Since the "Boys of Summer" are winding down their Seasons this month, I often reflect on my heroes that I followed since I can remember. See, baseball is just like life to me, as curve balls can be thrown at you at any time. It's how you compensate that makes the difference. I grew up a St. Louis Cardinal fan (long before the Royals began in 1969), and I began listening to Harry Caray on KMOX radio in St. Louis when the sun would go down and the signal would skip to SW Iowa. "It could be, it might be . . . it IS! A Home Run! Holy Cow!" was his signature phrase long before he moved to WGN for the Cubs TV Broadcasts. My heroes in the day were Bob Gibson and Tim McCarver. Gibson was a fireball pitcher from Omaha, Nebraska (used to be the spokesman for Kitty Clover Potato Chips on Omaha TV Stations), played for Creighton University when he was drafted by the Cardinals, then sat out his first year to tour with the Harlem Globetrotters. McCarver was his catcher, his "battery mate." Together, they would win the World Series in 1964 and 1967, only to lose a heartbreaking series in 1968 against Mickey Lolich and Denny McLain (with a 31-5 record - unheard of now!) of the Detroit Tigers. After that, it wouldn't be until 1982 when the Cards were back in the World Series again. Dad was an instrumental part of my baseball life, along with my neighbor, Tom Fees, also a Cardinals fan. I grew up reading about the exploits of Dizzy Dean (from the Cardinals "Gashouse Gang" of the 30's) and Stan Musial, along with Satchel Paige, who is a true legend; all 3 Dad's heroes. Every one of those players gave back to their communities, never once thinking about themselves.
Today, that legendary dna of "giving" and contributions is carried out by my favorite player, Albert Pujols. A Fort Osage HS Grad (Ft. Osage is halfway between Independence, MO and Buckner, MO on US Highway 24), and a one-year player for Maple Woods Community College in Kansas City, a half mile north of our house, he made the headlines constantly in the Kansas City Star's Sports Section. The Cardinals drafted him in 1999 - and his rise to fame was nothing short of amazing. He was named the NL "Rookie of the Year" in 2001, and to date, has 401 Home Runs (he's only 30) and a Lifetime Batting Average of .332 (compared to HOF 3rd Baseman George Brett's lifetime avg of .305). Most importantly, Albert gives back to the Community, and lives the teachings of the Bible. A devout Christian, he is an example of how we all should live our lives. Fame is not what he is about - people and giving back is his mantra.
God Bless You, Albert! This St. Louis Cardinal fan is proud that you are wearing the uniform of my favorite team, and proud of the way you carry yourself on and off the field!
Think about it . . .
Yogi: 9/4/2010 12:05PM
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